


Fire, Love, and Rock and Roll

by hiddencait



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: F/M, Post-High School, gratuitous leather pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddencait/pseuds/hiddencait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magenta and Layla have planned out the rest of Warren's life for him. Luckily, he's on board with the idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire, Love, and Rock and Roll

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_afterlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_afterlight/gifts).



> So I agree with the_afterlight in that there can NEVER be enough Sky High fic. It's one of my feel good fandoms - I rarely write in it, but I love to go back and troll through my fave fics. Thus, I was thrilled to find this request - Warren after high school? That I can do!
> 
> Admittedly this is HEAVILY influenced by "Undiscovered" - you know that movie of questionable story but phenomenal musicality that Steven Strait sang and performed in? Yeah, that one. BTW, if you HAVEN'T seen it - check the youtube vid for "Boomerang. It's worth it.
> 
> But yeah, this is my personal headcannon for what Warren should be doing after high school - hopefully it works for the_afterlight too! 
> 
> BTW, thanks to [redacted] for the betaness.

It was all Magenta’s idea, but Layla was the one that figured out how to make it work, whether Warren agreed or not. That tended to be the way his life went these days since joining forces with the ragtag group of freshman at Homecoming: the girls came up with a plan of attack, and Warren (and usually the rest of the guys, too) just stepped back and let them do it and/or let them drag him into it. It wasn’t a half-bad way to live if he was being honest. Never mind that initially it had been awkward as hell explaining to his mom that he, a junior, was bringing over a group of freshies to hang out. Not his coolest moment, but he’d survived.

In any case, as a senior it somehow seemed far less awkward. The only hard part had been contemplating what the hell he was going to do with himself after he graduated, considering he’d be the one going it alone so much sooner than any of his favorite “sidekicks.” Going out into the world with two new identities was the most complicated of a super powered teen’s life, and one who had also been the son of a super villain had it just a bit harder. The Council for Super Powered Individuals had been watching him closely for most of his life; if anything, their scrutiny had grown more focused after his befriending of Stronghold and the others. It was as if they expected him to be recruiting the others for the Dark Side.

Layla’d had a few well thought out and painfully articulate rants of the subject, but honestly Warren hadn’t taken the surveillance personally. He’d met his dad, after all. Warren knew first hand just what kind of damage the man could cause; he didn’t blame the Council for being a little paranoid.

Still, it meant he’d have to be twice as careful about choosing his cover job than most people – it couldn’t be anything with too much influence on the public or with too much access to dangerous materials and/or sources of wealth. Warren had been about to tear his hair out over the lack of options when Magenta had her flash of brilliance.

There weren’t many places in mundane day to day life where Warren could easily blend into the crowd, not with the way his powers tended to affect his hair and skin; the red streaks came and went without any control on his part, and the admittedly rash decision to get his tattoos had only become more questionable when he realized the heat of his powers occasionally caused the flames to seem to move across his skin. It looked pretty badass, but it wasn’t exactly stealthy.

So, Magenta had proposed to go the opposite route of what the Council likely expected of him. Play it up, she’d suggested, play it up _hard._ How? She explained: rock star, baby. They needed to make Warren into a rock star.

There had been yet another completely expected lecture from Layla about Magenta’s choosing to perpetuate the bad boy stereotype, etc. etc. and so forth. Warren had only been able to silence her on pain of one extremely awkward bet. Note to self: never, _ever_ doubt Magenta when it came to 80s pop culture references. It just wasn’t worth a man’s dignity.

Thus, though it had pained him to do it, Warren had entered the Sky High annual talent show his senior year. Just him and a guitar up on stage with the entire student body staring at him. He had never been so close to crisping up a guinea pig as he was in that moment.

Only, and this had been the thing to finally convince Layla, Warren had rocked it. By the end of his set, the entire crowd of teens had been up on their feet, rocking right along with him.

It was just lucky for him that he’d been on board with Magenta’s scheme in the first place. There wasn’t much chance he would have been able to argue with the starving musician front after that.

Layla had been the most impressed, and had thrown herself into helping him figure out the logistics of the mess, up to and including dragging him out to try on and order the new fire-proofed wardrobe as apparently his clothes were deemed OK for day to day but nothing like what he’d need on stage. If he never saw another pair of leather pants again, it would be too soon. The less said about that particular shopping trip the better, though Layla still dissolved into giggles at the slightest mention of it.

She’d also arranged for professional voice lessons and the renting of additional sound equipment, figuring out the funding of it all through the Aspiring Hero Cover Identity Assistance Grant Program that Sky High hosted every year for heroes who’d be going straight into the work force instead of into higher powered education. Layla’d expedited most of the paperwork for him except for the personal statements and letters of recommendation, those he’d been able to complete and gather for himself, thank you very much. After that, it was just a demonstration of his musical ability to the Board of Directors for the program as proof that he didn’t intend to simply not work in between hero assignment calls. He was going to be living on the Council’s salary, same as a great many supers in the city, but it didn’t mean he wanted to live totally on the dole. Music might not pay well, but he was privately determined to pay the majority of his bills from it if at all possible.

His mother’s eyes had welled up with tears of pride when he’d told her that.

Mostly, he was shocked in general at just how easy the whole scheme fell into place around him, mostly due to Hurricane Layla, but also just because it was something he was legitimately good at and people seemed to recognize it.

Hell, the hardest part was finding bandmates who had both already passed the Council’s background checks, and who had just as little actual musical ambition as he did. He (well Layla and Magenta mostly) had worked damned hard to make sure his cover identity was going to be as “irresponsible” in appearance as possible; it wasn’t going to do him any good if his band mates kept quitting out of anger when he missed a gig due to his red phone ringing at the last second. That reputation for irresponsibility had been the other thing Warren had to wrap his head around. Yes, he’d cultivated a bit of a bad-boy image over the years out of rebellion and resentment towards his dad, but he’d also done his best to make sure that he hadn’t caused his mom any more strife than a normal teenager. He was on time, was in general courteous to adults, and he’d never missed a day of work since he started bussing tables at The Paper Lantern. Never.

Knowing that he was all but expected to ditch on practices and performances even when his phone didn’t ring just to establish his cover – that was going to take some getting used to.

It was probably for the best, or so the girls had told him. They apparently had the feeling that if he’d approached the band with his normal work ethic, sooner rather than later he’d manage a record deal and a little too much time in the public eye than was healthy for a superhero. Warren was pretty sure they were joking about it, but he figured it was best not to argue with them when they had that gleam in their eyes.

In any case, there he was the summer after graduation, with a new cover identity as Warren Peace aspiring rock star, new super identity as “Shieldfire,” new apartment, and last, and most surprising to him, new girlfriend.

It was the last that seemed to come out of left field, though apparently even Stronghold had seen it coming before he did. Will and Layla had broken up over the summer after their freshman year, due as much to outside forces as due to a lack of chemistry. It had been amicable for the most part – honestly Will’s dad had seemed more disappointed at the lack of a chance for a future “Stronghold Four” as Will was at the idea of his girlfriend going back to being simply his best friend. Layla had moped for only a little while, more at the final death of her childhood dreams of marrying Will than at the thought of actually not marrying Will, before dusting herself off and throwing herself into preparing Warren for the world outside of Sky High.

Warren didn’t think she regretted the break up or her aid in Warren’s job creation.

At least, it was hard to think so considering the kiss she’d landed on him at his graduation. She’d pulled back, flushed and eyes wide and apprehensive. Warren’d only been able to stare back for a moment until Zack’s wolf whistle had snapped him out of it. Then he dove back in to kiss her back. The rest of his graduation passed in somewhat of a blur minus a few terrifying moments of discussion with Layla’s mother about what his “intentions” were. Or the lack of them, more accurately.

What _Layla’s_ intensions were really was more accurately the issue, and he’d told her mother so: as long as Layla was happy, he was happy. And if he was the one Layla felt could make her happy, well then, he’d just have to go along with it. He’d learned their freshmen year that he couldn’t tell her no. The rest, as they say, was history.

Warren had a feeling he’d be writing more than a few songs about Layla in the years ahead. If he wasn’t careful, they might just go platinum.

 


End file.
